Saturday, September 30, 2023
Memorial of Saint Jerome, Priest and Doctor of the Church
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Last supermoon of the year
On the way to Bunny’s to get fish and chips, and far better, my hugs from Evie, Marc and the rest of Marc’s friends, I saw (no … FELT) the big full moon not so high in the sky, the last supermoon of the year. Talking with Mary Kay this afternoon, she told me she hoped to take a Moon Walk last night. I hope she took that walk. This moon fed my spirit, that “super”natural moon; that moon made by God and blessed by God.
Sitting solitary under a moonlit sky,
Someone asked, “What are you doing?”
“That’s easy,” I replied.
“It’s my turn to say thank you.” – Clarence Heller
Not far inside the Arkansas border the cotton fields, ready for harvest, poured their bright white over the red ground. A big green tractor pulled an empty wagon along the edge of a field, as I passed over the Texas border at Texarkana. I couldn’t help but sing Leadbelly’s song along with Credence. Knock it out of the park, boys!
When I was a little bitty baby my mama would rock me in the cradle
In them old cotton fields back home.
It was down in Louisiana, just about a mile from Texarkana
In them old cotton fields back home.
In North Little Rock I opened my motel room door yesterday morning into a new sunrise. Darkness had given way to yet another day. The orange fuzzball rose above the horizon, infusing the sky with red and orange. I got in the Prius and headed up the highway, feeling pretty good, but I knew that later it might be tough to stay awake. I’d been restless in bed, and now I was in the middle of a 12 hour fast before getting bloodwork done in Champaign. Christie Clinic closed at 5:30 on Friday for the weekend.
I did get sleepy. Too sleepy to be driving. I knew a rest area was coming up. At last. I pulled in, rolled up the windows, slept for 20 minutes. Better. And I still had plenty of time to get home. In Champaign I drove with the windows down, the perfect September air blowing my hair around (what little hair I have) and cooling my face. I stopped in at the library with its beautiful bamboo walls, found books about Maine and New England, checked them out. In the air, a peaceful, easy feeling.
YouTube takes me down musical alleys I don’t expect. Listening to Credence Clearwater Revival gave way to the Cathedrals singing “Mansion Over the Hilltop.” Oh, their harmonies!
Don’t think me poor or deserted or lonely
I’m not discouraged, I’m heaven bound
I’m just a pilgrim in search of the city
I want a mansion, a harp and a crown.
Writing last night before heading to bed I felt a twinge in my chest. That doesn’t happen much. I massaged my chest and it went away. But it reminded me of my mortality. Listening to the boys sing, remembering what Paul wrote to the Philippians, I knew how much I was in love with the sounds and colors and memories and … just the air on my face of this life. And even more in love with Jesus. As happens so often, Henri Nouwen encapsulated what I was thinking:
Our life is a short opportunity to say yes to God’s love. Our death is a full coming home to that love. Is that what we desire? It seems that most of our efforts are aimed at delaying this homecoming as long as possible. It all seems such an upside-down way of being! But it’s the way of Jesus and the way for us to follow. There is nothing morbid about it. To the contrary, it’s a joyful vision of life and death.
I guess that’s right. Today is another day to live however which way God provides for me. Provides for you. For all of us.
The virgins shall make merry and dance, and young men and old as well. I will turn their mourning into joy. I will console and gladden them after their sorrows. The Lord will guard us as a shepherd guards his flock. Our Savior Jesus Christ destroyed death and brought life to light.
(Zechariah 2, Jeremiah 31, 2 Timothy 1, Luke 9)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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